


Videotape

by Sarielle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Dadster, Depression, Family Fluff, Gen, Grillby and Sans are Dad friends, Headcanons by the bucket load, It's kinda angsty though, Kinda, Memory Alteration, Mental Illness, Mentions of Mettaton - Freeform, Post-No Mercy Route, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Pacifist Route, Sans raised Papyrus, Songfic, This isn't angst I swear, Timeline Shenanigans, rated for depressing themes and one f bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarielle/pseuds/Sarielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaster watches his sons from the void.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Videotape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatpersonbehindyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpersonbehindyou/gifts).



> This was written as birthday present to my good friend Seph thatpersonbehindyou on tumblr. I worked together our own personal headcanons and put them into this so for reading purposes i'm gonna put all the headcanons/theories referenced here.  
>  **Headcanons referenced in this fic**
> 
>  
> 
> -Gaster is Sans and Papyrus father. He created them in a lab as experiments with various interactions between Determination and Mercy.  
> -Gaster was completely eradicated from time. To maintain a stable timeline the universe is constantly trying to undo any mention of Gaster. Sans and Papyrus survived but with implanted fake memories to fill the gaps left by his absence.  
> -Sans raised Papyrus since Gaster’s accident. Even though he was likely only in his mid to late teens at the time.  
> \- Gaster can see all and every timeline in the void but not communicate with then.  
> -Grillby is a single dad. The sprite named Fukufire is his daughter Ember. His wife Fyra was killed in a work accident. Heat Flamesman is his nephew.  
> \- HP Stands for Hope. Sans only has 1 HP naturally as he suffers from depression (also due to complications from how he was made). He sleeps constantly and dreams to increase his HP above his max HP. He has nightmares but good dreams of happier timelines increase his hopes.  
> 

 

_“When I'm at the pearly gates_  
_This'll be on my videotape_  
_My videotape_

_When Mephistopheles is just beneath_  
_And he's reaching up to grab me_  
  
_This is one for the good days_  
_And I have it all here_  
_In red blue green”_

_[Videotape- Radiohead.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qvv-LpTBWVk) _

 

In the void there was nothing, and there was everything.

It took some getting used to but now he could hardly remember anything else. It was a cell inside of a singularity. The only good thing in his meaningless and infinite existence was the rifts, like his own in-house television screen and it had every channel that ever was, is or would be.

He’d fallen into the Core but now he was trapped outside reality. It was timeless and phaseless, no light entered here. He had no concept of time anymore, it simply didn’t exist.  That was fine. He missed his sons, his old friends and colleagues, his lab assistants, everyone. Contact was but a memory. He even missed his boss, the king of monsters and that was saying something, the guy had literally murdered children.

 He floated through the negative space he inhabited, the magic in this place was a strange one, rudimentary and almost mathematical. The void worked on the most basic principles of alchemy, simple elemental manipulation and tearing rifts was fine but equivalent exchange meant he couldn’t generate anything new without expending something of equal worth and he had nothing, just the dark unending fabric of the universe and the rifts with which to view the worlds he was locked out of. They functioned not unlike the old television set he'd kept in his lab, with a selection of black and white videotapes old lab footage and video logs. He browsed through the moments on display for him to view and when he found a moment he wanted to access he inserted the metaphorical videotape and latched on to the memory.

He viewed his sons. Boys of bright alabaster bones and magic. Built from Determination and Mercy the stuff heroes were made of. They were his heroes, his little ones. They existed in that parental paradox of adult and child both in his heart and in the void, which saw all of time and every potential time. There were timelines where they didn’t exist or one brother was left alone, he ignored those ones for the most part, they had nothing in them to offer him. All he cared for now was his family. He should have cared more when he existed he thought, idly dragging a bony finger in a swift line in front of him. The fabric tore in a single iridescent stroke and the rift grew into a small pocket. He reached his hand in and felt the pulsing heart of time, feeling for a moment to view.

* * *

Papyrus wanted to learn how to sled, but his brother was no carpenter. This was currently a matter of great debate in their household. A bone of contention, if you will.

Sans watched his younger brother stamp frustrated through the living room, little feet clacking against the tiles as he moved into the kitchen.  The older skeleton followed him, trying to keep the exhaustion from his face.

Papyrus made a big fuss of stamping around everywhere. He wasn’t very good at being grumpy, but what he lacked in genuine aggression he made up in sheer volume. He finished pouring himself a glass of milk and whirled around and leant against the kitchen counter. _Oh by King Asgore’s Beard_ , Sans could not wait until he outgrew this dramatic phase. He should probably control how many human soap operas he let the child watch. He should do it, but he wasn’t gonna.

“D’ya want something, Paps?” it was a stupid question, Sans already knew the answer. Part of him just wanted to put off the conversation as much as possible. Procrastinate on the topic at hand.

“EVERYBODY AT SCHOOL HAS A SLED EXCEPT ME! I CAN’T BE REPLACED AS COOLEST IN THE CLASS…WHAT IF JASON REPLACES ME?” Papyrus set his jaw square, his expression gloomy.

Sans sighed. “I doubt that’ll happen, Pap. Jason is literally a rock.”

“ROCKS ARE COOL, SANS. YOU KEEP A PET ONE. YOU CAN’T TALK YOUR WAY OUT OF YOUR UNAPPEASABLE ROCK LOVE. THEIR COOLNESS IS NOT WHAT WE ARE TRYING TO ESTABLISH HERE. IT’S MINE.”

The pet rock had been a joke, but his brother had taken it ultra-seriously, he even walked it a few times when he decided his brother was ‘neglecting’ it. By this point Sans had stopped finding it funny. It was kind of endearing though, not that he’d tell Papyrus.

“Uh, well I think you’re cool, bro. You’re like hella cool.” Sans said. He understood the kid’s confidence wasn’t as strong or defined as his personality yet and he made an effort to reassure him at every opportunity.

“I KNOW THAT SANS, AND YOU KNOW THAT. BUT THE OTHER KIDS…THEY’RE NOT AS ENLIGHTENED AS YOU AND I, BROTHER. THEY NEED HELP IN DISCOVERING MY COOLNESS.”

Sans sighed. “Let me guess, a sled would help with this?”

“OF COURSE IT WOULD, I MEAN A COOL PERSON MOVES WITH THE TRENDS RIGHT?”

“A cooler person sets the trends surely, Papyrus.”

“DO YOU WANT ME TO BECOME A MARTYR BROTHER? BECAUSE THAT MIGHT HAPPEN!” He hesitated. “I GUESS MARTYRDOM IS KIND OF COOL IN A EDGY LONER WAY.”

Sans chuckled at that. Paps the martyr, now there was a mental image. “No offense little guy, but I don't think a bunch of eleven-year-olds are gonna excommunicate you for not having a sled.

“BUT THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG SANS. THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY PLAN TO DO.”

Sans rubbed a hand over his tired skull there was a soft tic of bone against bone. He sighed again.

 “Papyrus buddy, I need to go work”

“WORKING TO GET SLED MONEY RIGHT?”

Sans sighed once more. “We’ll see, bud. We both gotta eat and I have to pay this month’s rent.

“BUT SAAAAANS.” Papyrus tone was grating, his volume increasing.

“Don't stay up too late and do your homework then we can talk about this again tomorrow, yeah?”

“OKAY, FINE.” He slumped dramatically “I’LL BE IN MY ROOM WITH MY ACTION FIGURES, MY ONLY TRUE FRIENDS.”

Sans chuckled dry and tired. “You’ll survive, baby bones.”

“PERHAPS BUT I WON’T ENJOY IT!”

“I’ll see you in a bit, Pap.” He said.

* * *

The shorter brother, older by more than a decade, collected his things and left the house. Papyrus skulked back to his room. While Sans headed leisurely into town, his thoughts spilling over with calculations and measurements.

Had he bought enough lumber to finish the job? Did Papyrus suspect anything? He was tired, but his bones hummed red with Determination. The thought of surprising his brother, seeing that huge smile light up his little skull.

The sign to Grillby's said closed but he swung open the door anyway. Grillby himself was already behind the bar setting up glasses. He turned when he heard the door swing open.

Grillby waved briefly in acknowledgement when he saw who it was.

“You’re early, Sans. Same situation as last night?” he asked, moving out from the bar and checking the cash register.

Sans nodded. “Yeah if you don't mind me skiving off early, I'm almost done with it.”

“and your brother has no idea?” Grillby asked.  

“Nope. I want it to be a surprise.” He unzipped his jacket. “I’m just gonna go out back and get changed, okay Grillby?

The flame monster smiled. “Okay Sans, wipe down the booths in the corner when you get a chance.”

* * *

 

His work was exhausting but relatively uneventful. The best part of the job was the regulars, they were like a second family to him. Dogressa and Dogamy were old enough to be Sans’ parents and they treated him like their pup whenever they saw him at work. It was nice, Sans loved his brother more than anything but sometimes he wished it was more than just the two of them, even if only to have another pair of hands to look after Papyrus.

Their mother had died when Papyrus was born, nearly twelve years ago, Sans didn’t like to think about it too hard, it hurt his head. He'd never admit it aloud but he couldn't even remember her face, there was just a vague female figure in his mind’s eye. Even details like her name were foggy, what kind of son forgot his mother’s name?  It was Aster, wasn't it? Aster like the flower.

Their father was a scientist and was even longer gone than his wife, Sans couldn't remember a thing about him, except he thought, with a boiling vehemence that he was never there. Who even was his father? From fragmented memories Sans produced an archetypal emotionless academic who had barely even met his youngest son. Sans didn't remember ever hearing from him while he was away either, but a cold concrete feeling of loss in his ribcage told him he didn't expect the man to return any time soon.

It was near midnight; he was sweeping the floors while Grillby wiped down the bar and put the glasses away.

“You can go now, Sans. I’ll handle everything else tomorrow.” His friend said, giving off a soft orange light that bent and refracted through the martini glass he held in his gloved hand.

“Ya sure, B?” Sans turned around to face him, leaning on his broom like a crutch.

The man nodded, solemn. His voice low and smoky swelled with fondness.

“Well, Papyrus isn’t going to get his present if you’re here all the hours of the night, is he?”

Sans grinned. “Nah, I s’pose not.”

“Just do me a favour, would you Sans?”

The skeleton nodded. “Course, whaddya need?”

“Don’t stay up too late working, my friend. You look tired.” Grillby said, smiling.

Sans shrugged. “I’m fine, Grillby. Don’t mention it.”

 His friend sighed, flickering red with frustration for a moment. “I know you just want what’s best for Papyrus. Trust me, from one tired guardian to another. It’s not worth...” He sighed, realising the pun in his words as they left his mouth.  “burning yourself out over.”

“Heh.” Sans grinned. “Nice.”

Grillby glanced at him bemused and long-suffering. “You’re missing the point. You won’t be any good to your brother if you wear yourself down. No matter your intentions”

Sans mulled that over, well aware every second here was a second not spent in workshop working on the sled he’d been building for days now. Every minute he spent asleep was time not spent on Papyrus. His brother was the most important thing in Sans’ life. Surely Grillby, of all people, understood that.

“How’s Ember doing, B?” he asked.

“She’s good, Sans. Thank you. Fyra’s sister has been fantastic, looking after her when I have to work. Still, I missed her crawling for the first time the other day. And I don’t wish to miss out on my daughter’s life, you know?” he shook his head, the corners of his mouth flickering downwards. “But we do what we must for our families.”

He knew, thought Sans with a tired sense of validation. Grillby lived with a loss only his daughter could fill. He knew how it felt to be exhausted and broken down to the core, living your life for somebody else.

Ember was a little green spark in her father's eyes. She brought a happiness to his friend he hadn't seen in the months since Grillby's wife's death. Sans’ thoughts turned to Papyrus stamping his little feet, he was just scared of being left out, of being weird, Sans knew that. They weren't like other families, they just had each other. Grillby and Ember, they were the same.

  _Friends like us should stay together_ , he thought.

“Hey, Uh, Grillby?” he moved to put the broom away.

“Yes?” the flame man turned back to look at him.

Sans cleared his throat but no sound came out, _oh what was the point?_ Grillby _knew_. Sans wouldn't ever have the right words to encapsulate his gratitude and friendship properly.

“Nothin’…uh just give Ember a kiss from Uncle Sans for me yeah?” he pulled his hoodie back on from where It had been hanging in the back room.

The monster chuckled, a beautiful rich noise. Like the crackle of a fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

“Goodnight, Sans. Sleep Well.”

* * *

 

Every world was possible. He'd seen timelines where his sons turned to crime, another where they were not trapped underground but in the stars. The one thing that never changed was their bond. Sans lived for Papyrus and his brother loved him back unconditionally in return. Their father, in his prison of nothingness, hung his head and reflected. He no longer existed anywhere or anywhen, not even in memories or photographs.

All his scientific research: all his work, his achievements. They were his no longer; he was not even a concept anymore. He existed in the void, just a shell of a man. Magic and bones, pining for the children who no longer knew his name. He was proud of them.

Though the memories he held of them were only real in his mind now. He remembered how soft infant Sans was to hold, how he'd brought him to the lab and carried him around in a front pack while he worked. He remembered that Papyrus’ first word was his brother’s name and that at four months old the kid had learned to laugh like a super villain.

Days and nights he’d worked himself literally to the bone to aid monsterkind and provide for his boys and now no one could remember the name of the royal scientist who invented the Core. Gone was almost fifty years of his accumulated work for no acknowledgement at all.

 Photo frames hung on walls of a Snowdin house collecting dust, gaps in their composition where Gaster once stood.

Gaster… 

~~GASTER~~

The universe wouldn't even let his name be uttered without consequences: rifts and anomalies sprung up trying to undo any utterance of the name.

Sans and Papyrus, at least they were safe. He was there, watching every universe where they were defeated.  Every time they despaired or suffered their father was their watching, wishing he could end their pain and cradle them to his chest once more. 

Then, above all odds, there was hope. One timeline that stretched out ahead of the others glowing blinding white. A lantern, a leading light, calling all the other timelines to safety. Sure it branched, new sub-timelines veering off into a spider web of choices like capillary veins; decisions, deaths and mistakes crawled out sideways, but still the main line remained unbroken. This one unlikely timeline stretched onwards forever and didn’t reset. His sons were both alive in this world. Papyrus was happy, successful even, Sans was recovering slowly and painfully but learning to live once more. They had a family.

His boys would be okay. What more could any parent long for? How could he lament his own fate when his children had all he ever wanted for them?

His emotions were fractured with the rest of his being. That was the problem with the void. It was all or nothing. It either amplified his feelings until they reverberated in crooning vibrations too loud and too strong inside his cracked skull, or it sucked all the sensations of emotion into the vacuum of nothingness.

Gaster opened another rift and pulled at a later moment. His hands sending out pulses of energy like a homing beacon, latching on to his sons. Another videotape of a memory began to play.

* * *

“HEY, SANS!” Papyrus’ shrill voice roused him out of the soft clutches of sleep. He'd been having a good dream; his dad was there making them tea as they worked in the lab together. It had seemed so familiar, nostalgic even, but within seconds it was gone.

Sans sat upright on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep. “Oh, hey Pap. How was your cooking lesson?”

“GREAT! I BROUGHT LEFTOVERS FROM UNDYNE’S! HAVE YOU EATEN YET?”

Sans head felt like cotton wool. “Ah…. No. I don't think so. I don't remember.”

“SANS, WERE YOU SLEEPING ON THE COUCH AGAIN?!” his brother scolded.

Sans eye socket twitched. “What? No? I was just watching TV.” He gestured with a limp wrist towards the TV set.

On the screen Mettaton was posing dramatically under a waterfall. Birds were singing, harp music was playing and the camera shots were largely composed of lens flares.

“OH! IVE SEEN THIS ONE BEFORE. IT’S A GOOD MOVIE! WATCH OUT FOR THAT TWIST ENDING.” He flopped happily onto the sofa beside him.

Sans forced a smile, _damn, he was tired_.  He'd seen this specific movie an upward of twenty times. He felt like his bones were filled with lead. It was a heavy life trying to keep his fate from Papyrus and he hated himself for caring.  He only wished he was dead inside. He cared too much to give up entirely, as long as Papyrus was alive and well there'd always be that single remaining shard of Hope that stopped him from shutting down completely. No matter how many resets he faced.

Sans’ existence had been one of necessity and endurance long before the human fell, now he just stopped trying to go the extra mile. He'd seen this day, this moment where Papyrus came in and told him not to sleep on the couch, over a dozen times already. No one else remembered, not Grillby or Undyne, not any of the Dogs, nor the lady who told the best knock-knock jokes.

Just Sans.

_Why Sans?_

He just wanted to survive. He didn't have enough energy to microwave a hot dog, or put on proper shoes, and what, was he expected to save the world from a murderous grade schooler who could mow down the Captain of the Guard with little more than a sweat? No thanks. Somebody had the wrong guy.

It was selfish but Sans world started and ended with his brother. That was all he could afford to care about. If it made him a terrible person, he was resigned to his fate. Papyrus was all that mattered. Everyone else was just a weakness. Even if little Monster Kid made him smile with the sheer intensity of their awe for Undyne. Even if the disembodied female voice behind the ruins door had given him something to look forward to for the first time in months. Even if his friends all cheered when he entered Grillby's, and he had a place where everyone knew his name. Even if all these things were true, and they were, even then he had to be ruthless. He had to put Papyrus first. Papyrus above everything else. Sans couldn't afford to be merciful, no with that thing running around destroying the world, hurting the ones Sans loved.

Sans stretched, clicking his spine. “What's for dinner, Paps?” he knew the answer. He charged his fake enthusiasm and chanced a smile at his brother. Papyrus beamed back apparently none the wiser. Sans was never sure how much his brother noticed about his attitude, if he knew more than his chipper ultra-positive demeanour let on.

“SPAGHETTI OF COURSE!” his brother boomed. “WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO HEAT SOME UP FOR YOU?”

“Sure, buddy. That’d be nice.” It wasn’t like he could be bothered to make himself something and he had to eat sometime.  Food lost its allure when you could never guarantee the groceries you bought yesterday would still be in the fridge, because you were never quite sure if you’d changed timelines overnight. Still, it would make Papyrus happy to eat his food. He lived to make Papyrus happy.

“COME ON THEN!” Sans let Papyrus pull him up to stand, and he leisurely followed his brother into the kitchen.

They ate their spaghetti together on the living room sofa because they didn't own a dining table. It was faintly reassuring to Sans, that familiar feeling of domesticity, of routine. For just a second there was nothing in Sans’ world but his brother, the clink of metal cutlery and the plate of better-than-usual spaghetti in his lap.

Everything felt normal, save for the fact Sans had lived this exact meal a few dozen times already. _Stars_ , what he wouldn't give to have a sense of real normalcy again.

His skull hurt, the low bubbling pressure of the magic underneath the bone, waiting for battle. When he closed his eyes even for a second he saw the shocks of yellow and cyan that hung there like fireworks. A festival show of magic pumping through his body.  Sans closed his eyes momentarily, a twirled fork of spaghetti held to mouth. The lights behind his eyes were completely cyan. Patience that meant, cyan was magic that ran on Patience. Where had he heard that? An ancient memory came to mind, words long since lost in time and a soft-voice, reassuring and smooth, like a comfy sweater to his ears. “Cyan is Patience, the Orange is bravery, you also have access to Blue for Integrity, Green for Kindness, Purple for Perseverance, and _most importantly_ we have Yellow for Justice.  Use them wisely, my child.”

Where did he remember this from? He felt the word ring klaxons in his head, the memory was important to him then, for some reason. Who had said these words he remembered?

It hit him, like something unstuck in his memory released a flood of understanding.

 _His father_ , his father had told him that. How could Sans ever have forgotten? The lights behind his eyes were completely cyan. That was because the only thing Sans could be now was patient. Stuck in time, resigned to his fate with the weight of the world on his clavicles.  He swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti. _Wow, Dad. Look at me now_. He thought with a bitterness that resounded from his core.

“HEY SANS!” his brother’s voice, loud as ever cut through his thoughts

“Yeah?” He was tired, but Papyrus looked so excited. Then he got excited by everything. It was kinda exhausting to Sans.

“UNDYNE ASKED ME TO DO THE EVENING PATROL TONIGHT, YOU SHOULD COME WITH ME, YOURE A SENTRY TOO, YOU KNOW!”

“I dunno, Paps. I'm really not feeling up to it right now.”

COME ON SANS ITS JUST UP THE HILL TO THE ICE FARM AND BACK. ITS NOT FAR. ALL YOU’RE GONNA DO HERE IS SLEEP! PLEASE JUST COME WITH ME FOR A BIT… he paused

Sans options stretched out in front of him in his mind’s eye. Papyrus hadn't brought this up before, this was new. Either he refused to go and stayed here sleeping on the couch in the warmth while his brother went out at night by himself. Alone. At best Papyrus was going to be mildly pissed about this arrangement. In the worst case scenario, that kid, that not-human _thing_ was going to turn up again, find his brother on his walk alone, and kill him, in cold blood. Again.

Sans sighed. He was the big brother, he was the caretaker, the guardian. If he went with Paps he could protect him, if he needed to. Sans pulled himself sitting upright and sighed. Even if it felt like no choice at all, he still had a choice:  Sans or Papyrus. Stay or Go. Life or Death.

He would choose his brother every time.

“Fine.” He said, _had he sealed his own fate with the word?_

“WHAT REALLY?” Papyrus looked around uncertain if this was some kind of joke tv show, expecting Mettaton to jump out from behind the Tv at any moment.

Sans shrugged, zipping up his hoodie.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon now buddy, before I change my mind.”

* * *

It was cold out. Sans didn’t even have skin and he felt the chill settle into his bones as soon as they were out of the house. He shivered.

“IT MUST HAVE SNOWED AGAIN WHILE WE HAVING DINNER.” Observed Papyrus, looking out across the white powdery expanse of land. He turned to his much smaller brother. “IT’S NOT TOO DEEP FOR YOU TO WALK IN IS IT?”

Sans took a few tentative steps forwards, he sunk down a little bit but the snow didn’t come up much higher than the tops of his sneakers.

“Nah” he said with a shit-eating grin “Snow biggie.”

“GOOD!” Papyrus smiled contentedly and took a few paces forward only to stop dead in his tracks seconds later. “WAIT.” He narrowed his eye sockets, realising the pun. “EUGH! SANS! IF YOU NEED ME TO CARRY YOU LATER ON YOU’RE NOT GOING THE RIGHT AWAY ABOUT IT.”

Sans glowed triumphant. “Worth it.” He said, quickening his pace to keep up with his much taller brother’s strides.

The lights from their neighbours’ windows cast a soft yellow glow across the snowy ground flickering like candlelight, a shadow puppet story. It made Sans antsy. He was already nervous, it paid to expect the worst case-scenario from where he was standing. If it was horrible and it could happen to him chances were it already had once or twice.

They passed the library, passed the signpost to Grillby’s and headed up the hill towards the ice farm.  Papyrus was happily humming to himself, occasionally chattering on about something Undyne had said or done. Sans wasn’t really listening he was too busy being on full alert. He'd seen no sign of the kid so far but that didn't mean they weren't there lurking somewhere in the shadows.

“WE JUST NEED TO CHECK OUT THE SENTRY STATION NOW, SANS.” His brother was saying. Sans was on edge, he crunched and clicked his knuckles like a pepper grinder.

“Sure, bud. You're the one in charge here, remember.” His words sounded monotone and detached. He was too busy checking every tree, every puff of snow for that short little silhouette with the red eyes.

Papyrus moved behind the wooden sentry station up on the hill. It was bare and pretty empty. Sans didn't use this station that often and Doggo was generally too lazy to make his way up the big hill. It seemed Papyrus had been using it as a storing place. As he pulled out a familiar looking wooden sled, big enough to support a child or a Sans- sized adult skeleton. He recognised it instantly.

Sans stared at the sled, he remembered every edge he had to sand, every nail he hammered. The sled itself felt unspoiled, like he was looking through a portal to a timeline untouched and unscathed by death, despair and the slow-motion breakdown of living the same trauma again and again. The sled was made of love. A present from a time they had little more than each other, from when they were safe.

_What was it dong here at the sentry station? What did Papyrus need it for?_

_Unless…_

“Undyne didn't ask you to patrol here, did she?” The question had left Sans’ mouth before he had time to turn around and look at his brother face on.

Papyrus started to grin, baring his teeth in a goofy expression. His eye contact slid away. He rubbed at the back of his neck.

“AH, WELL… NO. NYEHEHEH.” His brother was usually a terrible liar. Sans was surprised he hadn’t cottoned on that Papyrus had been lying earlier. He chalked it down to his own sheer exhaustion.

The cold empty fear in Sans’ guts dissipated, just a bit. It felt easier for him to breathe.

 “You just needed an excuse to get me out of the house.” He murmured, everything becoming that much clearer.

“YOU’VE BEEN MORE DOWN THAN USUAL LATELY, SANS” he said.

“It’s nothing, honest. I’m fine.” Sans was usually a much better liar than his brother, but right now he was cold and he wanted to go home.

Papyrus shook his head. “YOU’RE NOT FINE SANS, AND YOU KNOW WHAT?”

He sighed. _Here it comes,_ he thought. He was being uncharitable, but he was tired and miserable and he needed his brother’s sunshiny advice like he needed a bullet to the skull.

“What, Pap?” he murmured trying hard not to snap at him.

IT’S OKAY, THAT YOU’RE NOT OKAY.  NOT EVERYONE HAS TO BE HAPPY ALL THE TIME. EVERYBODY FEELS THINGS DIFFERENTLY.  I CAN BE FINE ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US UNTIL YOU’RE FEELING UP TO IT.”

Sans blinked, taking a bit of time for the words to set in.  Papyrus was not the Pollyanna annoyance the liars in Sans’ head reduced him to. His brother was a grown-up now.  A bright-eyed, eccentric grown-up, all idealism and action figures but still a grown-up nonetheless. Sans had been ignoring who his brother was really, as a complex person. He reduced Papyrus to his trademark happiness to try and turn him into something to save when really, Sans was just using him to save himself.

He looked between the taller skeleton and the wooden sled. Pictured the anxious and dramatic eleven-year-old who’d begged for weeks to have his own sled to go down the hillside with. Now there was this grown man in his twenties with the same grin, and the same expectant staring eyes.

Sans chuckled to himself. “You should have seen your little face when I first brought this home for you, it was like I'd given you an electric shock.”

Papyrus beamed, the bones of his face shining like the lights of Waterfall, “I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D EVER GIVE IN, AND I WAS SO SURE THE KIDS AT SCHOOL WOULD MAKE FUN OF ME IF I DIDN’T HAVE ONE.”

“Surely no one would _dare_ mock the Great Papyrus”, Sans joked, thrusting his hands into the soft lined pockets of his jacket.

“NOT NOW THEY WOULDN’T BUT I WAS ELEVEN, SANS. I WAS HARDLY THE GREAT SKELETON I AM TODAY. AND THAT’S THANKS TO YOU BROTHER, YOU AND YOUR A+ PARENTING!”

“Aww shucks, bro.” Sans laughed. He put his hands on the wooden sled frame gently smoothing the bones of his hands over it.

“I remember I offered to take extra hours so I could make up for all the times I skived off work early to go work on this beauty, but Grillbs wouldn't hear of it. He was all ‘You look after your brother that’s the part that matters most’ he wouldn't take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Papyrus beamed. “HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT THAT! FAMILY IS THE MOST IMPORTANT”

“Yeah, still. He didn't have to pay me for the time I didn't work. He's a good friend, is Grillby. I don't know what I did to deserve him.”

“YOU’RE _SANS_! OF COURSE YOU DESERVE HIM. YOU DESERVE ALL THE FRIENDS!”

“Heh, if you say so buddy.” He looked at the sled in front of him. His expression soft and fond. “Y’know this is probably a bit small for you now, Paps.”

“IT’S NOT TOO SMALL FOR _YOU,_ THOUGH.” Papyrus moved back behind the sentry station and pulled out a plastic toboggan that was more his size. He grinned.  “NYEHEHEHEH! C’MON SANS I’LL RACE YOU!”

Sans was impressed. “I see you came prepared.”

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS ALWAYS PREPARED, DEAR BROTHER. NOW RACE ME.”

“I dunno, bro…” Sans hesitated. How far was he willing to go for his brother? Was he going to sled down the hill potentially injuring himself in the process?

 _Death is coming dude, get on the fucking sled._ He shrugged. Yeah, it wasn’t that a big deal. He’d died for Papyrus before after all. He pulled the sled he’d made with his own two hands further up the hill.

Papyrus bounded after him. “ON THE COUNT OF THREE I’LL PUSH YOU THEN GO MYSELF”

Sans sat down, clinging to the runners either side of him for dear life. “Okay, I'm ready.”

“OK! ONE, TWO, NYEHEHEH!”

Papyrus pushed him, hard, and he headed swiftly down the hillside, picking up speed.

The ice cold wind rushed through his joints with a high-pitched keening whine. The Magic in his bones hummed and fizzled.  A rainbow flickered in sparks through his vision: Orange then Blue then overwhelmingly bright Green.  Beside him somewhere Sans could hear Papyrus’s voice, whooping elated carried on the wind as they sped down the hill together. The lights of Snowdin below them sparkled like stars. There were no murderous children in sight.

In that moment, Sans felt alive.

* * *

Gaster turned away from the rift he was using as a screen. A sensation of numbness washed over him. Paradoxically filling the void with a strong sense of nothingness. A cold calm. A quiet and barely tangible sadness. Life was bittersweet, he timelines kept stretching without him in it. His boys grew and changed and learnt and loved. Somewhere in the part that remembered being alive Gaster was happy. His existence carried on in genes and bone. In a comedic stout scientist and a giant walking ray of sunshine. He was still alive in Sans and Papyrus. He was never truly forgotten.


End file.
